


Kiss On The Pink (Of My Body)

by theprincessed



Category: Emmerdale RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Crack Relationships, First Meetings, Hand Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-27 00:10:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10797654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theprincessed/pseuds/theprincessed
Summary: Ryan’s mum invites him to an event celebrating Mark’s achievement with unexpected consequences...(Set post-World Championship 2017)





	Kiss On The Pink (Of My Body)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [miss_whimsy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_whimsy/gifts).



> Yep. You read that crack!pairing right and it’s entirely the fault of [miss_whimsy](http://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_whimsy) for being such an enabler!!!
> 
> For the uninitiated, Mark Selby = professional snooker player and as of yesterday, world champion 2017. I got unexpectedly attached to him in the televised 17-day run and as the tournament is based in Sheffield and Ryan's from Sheffield, my brain ran off with my snooker buzz and made this thing. By the way if you're reading this and you know snooker, just also know I’m quite proud of that pun-tastic title haha! 
> 
> J, this is for you. You didn’t ask for it really, but everybody else _certainly didn’t_ so, there! :p
> 
> Hope you and everyone else (anyone???) enjoy x

Ryan can't help heave a tired sigh as he arrives at the party without a plus one. His mum had twisted his arm into coming in the first place, transparently pointing out that her work with the Crucible Theatre when it wasn't playing venue to sport had somehow meant she'd still blagged an invite to the after-party following the conclusion of one of the events. Guests are dressed in their finery, with a strict smart dress code in place, so Ryan has done his best and rocked up in a navy suit and tie and black shirt and his eyes are searching the milling, joyous crowd before his mum finds him first.

“Hello, love!” she beams, leaning onto her tiptoes to give him a kiss on the cheek and a big hug, “Don't you look smashing!”

“Well, you did say smart,” he shrugs, noting all the glitz she's piled onto herself.

“You got here just in time, actually.” Her voice is so bright as she quickly grabs Ryan's forearm and practically marches him straight into the throng of people. The music is loud and the chatter is aplenty, but he still hears her clear as day when she stops them near the bar, taps a tall man on the shoulder then speaks to Ryan. “I'd like you to meet Shirley's son. This is Mark, he's - ” she pauses with a frown as Ryan's stuck on _who the hell is Shirley_ and assumes it's someone from work or one of her hobby clubs, “ - sorry, what are you again?”

“Mum!” Ryan hisses, clenching his fist by his side so he isn't tempted to smack his face with his palm.

A svelte, dark haired man about his height turns, smiles placidly at Ryan's mum like she hasn't just insulted him and says, “I'm an athlete.”

Ryan can't shake the feeling that he knows this guy from somewhere and his flat delivery of his response suggests he was joking, which makes the fact that Ryan's mum throws him a pleased, pointed look like athlete is something worthy and impressive all the more amusing. However, before he can apologise and usher her away, she trills about “how lovely!” that is and he quickly realises why this conversation is happening at all. She's ingratiating herself with this good looking man to romantically set her son up. The seconds he's saved from saying anything also make his brain tick over at double the speed and then it hits him. This isn't some ordinary, pretty bloke and he is sort of an athlete if professional snooker player counts!

Shit. It is indeed Mark. _Mark Selby_ , current snooker World Champion and world number one. Only the other week Ryan had watched on television as Mark defended his title with back-to-back wins and now here he is, standing in front of him, being pushed into some kind of date situation by his oblivious mother. 

“Ryan's an actor,” she says proudly, grinning, and glances between them. “I think I'll leave you boys to it. Is Shirley here? What about your step-father?” she asks Mark then waves any answer away, “I'm sure I'll find them. Have fun, darlings!”

In a waft of sweet perfume, she's gone and Ryan swallows through a dry throat, being left alone unprepared with a decent guy sees him really wish he had a drink to hand already. It doesn't seem like Mark has one either though, so Ryan uses that to his advantage and gestures to the bar. “So, can I buy you a drink?”

“I mean, surely they're free tonight for me at the champions dinner as _the champion_.” he retorts and Ryan has a fleeting second of wanting the ground to bury him deep because that makes perfect sense, until Mark grins broadly, “Sorry, I'm just pulling ya leg. I'd love one, thanks.”

They move to stand by the bar properly, shoulder to shoulder, and things awkwardly quieten to the point that the music and everyone else's topics of conversation overtake their space before a young man takes their order of two beers (“I've had enough champagne. Much prefer a normal beer, me,” was making Mark an increasingly attractive secret prospect to Ryan) and Mark nudges his shoulder. “Actor, eh?”

“Yeah, professional and everything,” he quips, watching the way Mark bites his lip as he appreciates the humour.

“Would I have seen you in something?”

“I'm surprised my mum didn't fill you in before I got here,” Ryan laughs, wincing. “I'm on Emmerdale. Sometimes I think it's a bigger deal for my family than it is for me.”

“Ah, Emmerdale! My mum loves that show.” Mark's expression shifts in a blink from polite enquiry to a flicker of lust as the slow sweep of dark lashes over blue eyes takes all of Ryan in. “Shame I haven't been paying attention. Y'know, because I've been kind of winning tournaments and stuff.”

“Oh yeah, congratulations by the way,” Ryan hurries to say, kicking himself that it took him this long to compliment the guy at the party practically held in his honour. He thrusts his hand out and the minute Mark accepts, he feels a spark as they touch.

“Cheers, mate,” he smiles easily and finally lets go to pick up his bottle and clink with Ryan's.

Watching him drink, Ryan is still stuck on the feel of their hands as they met. Mark's grip is strong in a determined manner rather than a place of insecurity and it makes sense really because he's at the top of his game now and he probably has everything – and everyone – falling at his feet and at this point there's no denying that Ryan is attracted to him. He'd seen him flexibly bend over that snooker table, his back straighter than most and a hint of soft dark arm hair peeking from the cuffs of his shirt, making him wonder what the rest of his body is like ever since and his eyes track the way Mark undoes two buttons now, his tie discarded somewhere already and his fingers trailing down his throat. It's the beginnings of chest hair that mentally kicks Ryan back into the room to pick up his beer and knock back half in one go, feeling hot and jittery and like he really wants to do something risky. How Mark's eyes sparkle and his mouth tips into an easy smirk tells him he probably knows the score, but it's not entirely clear if that's a good thing or not yet.

A couple more drinks in, Ryan can say that's it's good, definitely good.

Fuelled by more Dutch courage a little while later and some quality flirty conversation, they crash through the door to the toilets, resisting the urge to be attached at the mouth. Everyone might be having too much fun to notice them and there's nowhere else for them to hide, but they were still as careful as possible when quickly crossing the room and Ryan thanks every entity that they didn't run into either of their mums when all his thoughts are so impure.

They head to a stall and even though their feet will give the game away, Ryan's past caring as he lets desire rule and he finally gets his lips and hands on Mark. They're the same height so there's nothing uncomfortable about it as he cups Mark's jaw and yanks him in for a kiss, his fingers tingling from brushing against his stubble. He has to deal with the same when kissing Danny, but this lights him up on the inside and Ryan pushes their hips together and forces Mark back into the nearest wall, smiling inwardly at the thud. Despite not being as broad shouldered, Mark gives as good as he gets and his hands are tugging at Ryan's tie. It's probably not practical or warm enough to get naked here, but Ryan likes how he thinks and how in tune they are with wanting to touch so his tie is on the floor and their shirts are open in a flash and he wastes no time in feeling out Mark's slim torso, running across the hair down from his bellybutton in particular with designs on following it by tongue until Mark's nimble hands intercept and Ryan shifts his lips to Mark's neck, stomach flipping in excitement.

“I wanna suck you off,” he confesses eagerly as Mark curiously palms his cock over his suit trousers.

“God, yeah,” he agrees, but stops Ryan stepping away with a grip on his hip, “get it out first, come on – wanna see you too,”

Hand on the wall to brace himself, Ryan unzips his trousers and grabs Mark's wrist, folding his fingers past his underwear instead. Clothes to mid-thigh, he's halfway to his cock hanging out and Mark pours an appreciative groan into his mouth once they kiss again, Ryan's tongue demanding access because Mark's stopped him from getting on his knees. Wet at the tip the flirting did it's job as foreplay, although things are a little too dry and Ryan wars with himself because he doesn't want to let Mark's wrist go until he cheekily licks his other hand and shoves it to join the one held captive, both hands working Ryan's dick.

“Smug bastard,” he laughs, even though there's not a trace of arrogance in him usually.

“They are the reason I make a living,” 

Mark smiles into their lip-lock and squeezes to show off what he means, pulling up to the head on every stroke and corkscrewing down. The sensation forces Ryan's hips forward, grinding into Mark's thigh with his open stance to realise that he's just as hard. It doesn't hide it like jeans do and Ryan directs him to pick up the pace, determined to get off soon to punish him for denying him except Mark's hand is underneath his and Ryan yelps, startled, as he pinches his cockhead quick and the urge to come dissipates into more of a background want.

“Please,” he groans, “please – I wanna get my mouth on you so bad,”

He can't believe he's begging this early, but it's worth it when Mark raises his eyebrows, switches to one hand to wank him with and grabs his arse with the other. Pressed so close, they kiss feverishly and rut against each other, but Ryan's mindless with the idea of his cock down his throat because he knows they can't do much else. Neither of them expected to be here, so neither has anything more than their bodies and in some ways that's exciting and liberating to try and pull one another apart. He's pinned between Mark's hands as he cups his balls and his fingers flutter near his arsehole and Ryan's body relaxes, his yearning to come too powerful to ignore for long. He realises too late that his boxer-briefs are only tangled just under his cock and Mark's questing finger steals his concentration and his breath at the crucial moment where Ryan clenches, drawing him in to the first knuckle. The thought of more in the distant future is enough for his erection to jerk and he comes all over the inside of Mark's arm, still clutching and tugging mercilessly at his balls.

Ryan practically covers Mark's frame as his legs turn to jelly and he needs the wall to take the weight, his lips sloppily ending up near his jawbone in wordless gratitude. The good feeling lasts about two seconds before Mark gleefully ruins it, seemingly tucking Ryan in again but without helping to clean up the mess first. 

Standing in dirty underwear with a sticky cock, Ryan bites at his jugular. “I've changed my mind. I hate you,” 

“Yeah, okay,” Mark says mildly, actually being generous enough to hold his waist and reach for some toilet roll next to them. 

He brings his arm up and Ryan shivers as he chances a little lick, chuckling at the sight of Ryan's jaw clenching because nothing can destroy the image of the intimacy created between them now. He wipes the rest of the mess with the paper, balls it up and throws it to land in the toilet and Ryan has to admit that it's a good shot and he kisses how impressed he is onto Mark's lips, aware in his post-coital fog that his arousal is still present. He licks his lips when Mark jokes silently with a glance at the floor, supposedly telling Ryan what he wants and he blows out a slow breath as Ryan does it anyway, easing onto his knees. 

The floor is tiled and he makes sure to kneel properly because he doesn't want anything to come between him getting his mouth on Mark's dick and he's not disappointed when its revealed to him. He looks ready to blow his load so Ryan cuts to the chase, wets his lips and sinks down onto the length. His girth stretches his mouth just enough and he's tickling the back of Ryan's throat in no time, both of them desperate for it, and Mark loses some of that laid back character to fuck forwards until Ryan plants his big hand in the middle of his belly to be able to control him a little better as he works. Ryan strokes at his chest to get his fill and can feel Mark squirming the longer he holds him still. It's the same rush he felt as Ryan almost came in his boxers like a teenager, playing each other like a fiddle, and Ryan smiles inwardly when he bobs his head quick and Mark's trembling hands land on the crown of his head.

Fist curled around Mark's dick, he pulls back from his sucking with a loud breath of relief and lets his saliva slick his hand so he can ask, “Do you top, bottom or both?”

“You wanna chat about this now?” he splutters incredulously then jumps when Ryan kneads at his arse, not as plentiful as his own but probably still a dream to fuck if he - “God, Ryan - ” he pants, moaning as he licks hard against the ridge on the underside of his cockhead, the tip of his tongue toying with it. “Top, mostly.” Sucking down again as a response, Ryan lets go of the base to drop his hand to his lap and rub at his own soft, sensitive cock and his eyes crinkle happily as Mark predictably looks down. “Fuck! Fuck, what're ya doing to me? I'mma come – I'm coming, Ryan,”

He hums to show he's understood and that the vibration will tease him just right to make sure Mark damn well does as his body wants, grip on Ryan's hair turning white-knuckled, and he swallows it all, bitter salt flooding his mouth as he sits back on his heels after the first stream. Eventually, he staggers to his feet and kisses Mark languidly, sharing his taste as he slowly helps him pull up his underwear. Their trousers and shirts remain unzipped and unbuttoned but Ryan risks crowding in with a hand to Mark's hip, struggling to breathe. The vague thump of music outside is the only accompaniment until Mark moves his head resting against the wall to lazily grin. The moment of afterglow is broken and Ryan shifts awkwardly, wishing he somehow had a spare pair of boxers.

“I'm gonna get you back for this,” he vows, blushing through the assumption that Mark will want to see him beyond tonight.

“Mate, I'm counting on it.” he answers gleefully, thumbing at Ryan's plush, overworked lower lip before he surges in for a parting snog.

Once they're suitably presentable, they shuffle out of the stall like spies looking over their shoulders but much more giddy and satisfied and they slink out of the toilets to be met by a stocky man with salt and pepper hair. Mark narrowly avoids literally bumping into him and when they see each other his face he looks uncertain for the first time since Ryan met him, torn between happy to see him and embarrassed. “John, hi!”

“Hello, lad!” he grins, “Enjoying yourself?” He looks at Ryan, “Y'know, I remember when he'd just turned professional and now look at him,”

Ryan coughs, begging his pale skin not to betray him because it's true, Mark's enjoyed himself very much and he can still taste it, but Mark seems to read it wrong and take it as a reminder that Ryan hasn't been introduced. “Sorry, Ryan. This is John, my step-dad. Ryan's an actor,”

“Actor?” John raises his eyebrow, “Don't get many of them 'round here for this,”

“Oi, be nice,” Mark laughs, except his glance is tinged with worry.

Ryan shrugs bashfully. “I got pushed into coming here by my mum. I think she knows Shirley?”

“Ah, so that's who my wife's been gossiping to all night.” he says before he squints, “Tell me, is that a Northern accent I hear?”

“Mangled by a couple of years in drama school, yeah.” One of the best perks of being on Emmerdale is letting that side of his identity come out and it's definitely increased his pride in his heritage. “I'm from here, actually. Sheffield.”

“Great stuff! Pity you never told anyone about him, son. You could've got him in to see you win for free!” he says to Mark then extends his hand to Ryan. “Pleasure to meet a local boy, Ryan. Don't be a stranger now. Any friend of Mark's is a friend of mine.”

Ryan opens his mouth to admit that they've only just met tonight, but Mark shakes his head minutely, fondness radiating from him, and so they watch as John leaves and Mark scratches the back of his neck in the beat of quiet between them. “Don't listen to him, he's definitely drunk and everyone's a friend to him then,” he chuckles, even though they both know he seemed pretty sober and merely happy for his step-son's big achievement. “How come I didn't know you're from Sheffield?”

“You didn't ask.”

The flirting and the kissing kind of killed any further conversation dead. For the better.

“Right, yeah.” Ryan wonders if the real awkwardness is about to set in and is about to make his excuses for an escape, putting this night to bed as some crazy fun, when Mark jerks his thumb in the direction of the bar. “Fancy another beer? You can tell me the best bits about Sheffield that _isn't_ to do with the Crucible and snooker.”

Pleased by the invitation, Ryan nods and luckily, carrying on is as easy as that.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, lovelies x
> 
> I'm on tumblr at [theprincessed](http://www.theprincessed.tumblr.com). Come chat to me. :)


End file.
